Apathy
by Achlies
Summary: D/s. Darkward. "It's easy once you know what to look for. Sitting in biology class, leaning too far back in my seat, it's almost boring. All I needed was a whisper of kink. A video where some tribesman in the jungle of Africa or in the desert of the Middle East is tied up and tortured, and thoughts begin to slip out." E/B. VERY dark fic.


_A/N: This is an EXTREMELY dark fic and not at all representational of how I view Doms and subs. I know something like this should never be allowed. Also, Edward can read Bella's mind here. It's not fun otherwise._

**Apathy**

It's easy once you know what to look for.

Sitting in biology class, leaning too far back in my seat, it's almost boring.

All I needed was a whisper of kink. A video where some tribesman in the jungle of Africa or in the desert of the Middle East is tied up and tortured, and thoughts begin to slip out. A poorly reenacted, two second clip of someone being whipped in a religion class. Ideas appear.

Slowly at first. Mostly, it's horrifying. Mostly, people groan internally at seeing such classless debauchery. Some people are indifferent.

But sometimes, it's good.

She blushed before she even realized why she was blushing.

She hadn't considered it before. She didn't know why she was considering it now.

I could feel the warmth of her blush.

I leaned forward slowly, letting her become re-aware of my presence. Letting her think that perhaps I had overheard her thoughts. Listening as she dismissed the possibility.

"Interesting, isn't it?" I whispered.

"I suppose," she said, with perfect indifference.

Liar.

She replayed my words multiple times that day. Dreamt about it that night. I let her.

She paid more attention to me after that.

Constantly aware of my presence.

It was almost tortuous.

Mostly, it was perfect.

She imagined me naked during class.

I let her watch me idly doodle out diagrams and drawings that were more accurate than any 17-year-old had a right to be. Pictures of canes. Of whips. Of rope work.

It was almost boring.

I watched her stand in front of her full-length mirror late at night. Me, balancing on the tree outside her window. Her, wrapping her hands around her neck until her face glowed red. She always pouted when she was done.

It wasn't something she wanted to do to herself.

I broke into the school one night, rearranged the names on the biology teacher's class list.

We were partnered together.

A week later and she was walking into my house.

It was all I could do not to rape her where she stood.

She knew something was different about me. Some inherent characteristic made me less corporeal than her fellow cohorts. She didn't know what it was. It made her nervous.

Which made me excited.

I led her to my bedroom, ignoring the silent questions about the lack of bedding materials.

She was smart. But a lifetime of indoctrination against ghost stories made it impossible for her to pin down the issue at hand. I was different.

She had no idea.

Of course she noticed the whip on my desk.

She was embarrassed for me, for what she considered a horrifying oversight on my part. But more than that, she was intrigued for herself. She imagined ways to seduce me. She thought this was going to be entirely too easy.

I turned to browse a stack of CDs and it was all I could do not to laugh out loud.

Too easy.

Too boring.

"How about instead of our science project," I said, rounding on her, "you tell me what you want to do."

"What I want to do?"

She looked frail, breakable, standing with her arms crossed and her hip resting against the edge of my desk, with an expression of both studied indifference and resounding indignation.

"Don't be so easy."

Her eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

"You know what I think?"

I took a few steps towards her, letting my body rid itself of the practiced, jerky, human movement and instead sheath itself in a predatory glide.

She bristled. Something felt wrong to her. She imagined me as a cat, stalking.

"It's an apt description," I said.

She took it better than most do. I was just confirming a thought she already had.

"That's interesting," she said.

"It's really not, I assure you."

_I want you to fuck me senseless_, she thought.

I bared my teeth. "Gladly. But only in the way that I prescribe."

She thought of my doodles. The whip on my desk.

"Deal."

Immediately, she thought she had bargained for too much.

It was too late for her, though.

I took her into the nearest room with a bed. Where my trunk full of supplies already existed.

"Get on your stomach, hands above your head."

She obeyed. Willingly. Thinking about how cool the air was going to feel against the wetness between her legs once she was naked.

"Do that first," I said.

She undressed herself. Not in a way suggesting she was about to get fucked, but in a way that spoke of practice. She wasn't doing this for my sake. She was doing this for herself.

"That's the biggest mistake you'll make today."

She tried to remember what she'd just thought.

"This is all for me, Bella. That will be the last time you forget it."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

She frowned.

"What's my name?" I asked.

"Edward."

"That's the last time you'll say that out loud. What's my name?"

She imagined all the stories she'd read over the past few weeks, the research she'd done; the words – black shapes against a white computer screen – fluttered helplessly in her consciousness.

"Sir," I said.

"Okay . . . sir." She was tasting the word, trying to figure out whether she liked it or not. Feeling the weight of it on her tongue.

She smiled.

"Good girl, slut."

The feminist in her raged against the word. The submissive in her felt an overwhelming pleasure for it, craved it.

She wanted more.

They always do.

I looked at her naked body, pock marked with scars and dimples. Human.

"I can't believe you're still standing before me," I said.

I wrapped my hand around her hair, forcing her to her knees.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"You will be."

I was already hard. Despite herself, she lightly bit at my cock through my pants.

I grimaced.

I wasn't going to last long.

"Did I tell you to move, slut?"

"No, sir."

With my hand still wrapped in her hair, I led her to the other side of the room on her hands and knees.

"How does the wooden floor feel on your knees?" I asked, noticing the wincing as I brought her back towards the bed.

"Painful."

"Painful?"

She smiled again. "Painful, sir."

There was a reverence to the word.

"Are you a pain slut, whore?"

She considered it. Briefly. "I'm not sure, sir."

"Get on the bed."

She obeyed. She didn't move quickly though. She was having doubts. Unsure if this was what she really wanted.

"It's too late for that, now."

It relaxed her.

It usually did.

I was too hard for comfort. I removed my pants, my underwear, and my socks. Cursing myself as I laid them on the ground next to the trunk. Removed my shirt, hating that she couldn't see the display. Wishing I had more self-control.

"Look at me, slut."

She did. Her eyes were heavy, her mind was disassociating.

"Pay attention, whore."

She blinked once. Twice. Grounded herself.

"Good girl."

She smiled, slow and lazy.

I cuffed her to the bed. Stuffed a blindfold between her fingers and told her to put it on. Put a ball gag in her mouth.

"Say my name."

"Sir," she mumbled around the plastic.

"Ass in the air."

She obeyed, slowly, relishing the way the air felt against her cunt. Loving the exposure, the vulnerability.

"You will shave next time," I said.

"Yes, sir." No blush, no embarrassment. No consideration. Just an agreement.

"You're going to be in a lot of pain tomorrow."

"Thank you, sir."

I unwound the belt I'd been wearing from my pants and wrapped it around my fist.

"My leather belt is my favorite instrument. It will hurt. You will thank me for it."

"Yes, sir," she mumbled.

I had to remind myself to be careful. To not allow my strength to break her bones. To not kill her.

It was hard.

I didn't succeed.

The cries that whistled through the gag were a mix of terror and pleasure. She hated the belt. But she hated the idea of disappointing me even more.

It would have been impossible to ask her to remain silent. I didn't bother.

The dull, trembling, thwacking sound of the belt hitting her bare ass was almost too much.

The marks that remained were too beautiful.

It was going to be a great disappointment to not see them bruise.

I didn't warn her before I fucked her.

She wasn't ready.

The pain from the belt was more terror than pleasure and she was no longer wet when I entered her.

But goddamn was she tight.

I groaned despite myself, feeling the effort of her trying to relax around my cock. Trying to conjure images of sexy things to ease the pain.

"It won't work," I hissed. "Don't bother. Let it happen."

She tried.

She failed.

I had thrown the belt on the bed and picked it back up. She heard the metal clink of the buckle smack against the band and her entire body tensed.

"You hate the belt."

"No, sir," she breathed.

"Liar. Don't you dare lie to me, slut."

"I'm sorry, sir."

I didn't thrust. I just allowed the warmness of her skin to envelope me. Thrusting would have been it for me.

I whipped her again. She tensed every muscle in her body, forgetting to allow her cunt to remain relaxed.

"Christ," I mumbled.

I did it again.

I could let her milk me.

Again.

She wasn't sobbing, but her nose was running.

Still she didn't tell me to stop.

Her mind screamed it, though.

"Tell me about your conflict," I said, and immediately regretted it.

She mumbled something incoherent around the gag. I heard it in her thoughts.

Right before her mouth would form the word "no," I would stop, press the length of my body against her back, and relish the warmth of her blood. I whispered to her. Telling her she liked it.

She nodded.

She did.

But she hated me.

"I can live with that," I said.

Again.

The cry this time was more guttural. It seemed to begin in her stomach and rip out of her against her will.

"Don't be strong," I whispered. "Let it consume you, slut."

She tried.

Again, she failed.

Again, I whipped her.

"Tell me why you wanted this."

Her thoughts were a jumble of broken sentences.

I laughed. "It's hard to talk when your skin is on fire."

I thrust, once, and a tremor went through me.

"Get on your back."

She twisted herself, awkward as she was with the handcuffs on. She winced.

I couldn't stop the smile. "It hurts, doesn't it?"

She nodded.

"What would you friends say if they could see you now?"

She didn't say anything.

Didn't picture her friends' faces, as they normally do.

Just stared at me. Her mind was mostly blank.

"Ground yourself, slut."

She blinked a few times.

Found herself.

I got off the bed and found a series of alligator clips, some remnant of my sister's previous days as a hairdresser, and threw them at her. She flinched as they hit her, despite their lightness, and imagined my belt.

"These are going to prove useful," I said. "And painful."

I looked at her tits, warm and soft and round, sagging slightly outward. I pinched her nipple and watched her face relax into a soft smile.

"Silly slut," I said.

I pulled the skin back from her tit and clipped the small metal piece to it. She winced and tried to pull away from me. I put another on. And another. And then one on her nipple. She gasped and her eyes flew open, the edges of them wet.

"It hurts, doesn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Would you like me to stop?"

She considered it. She didn't. I'm not sure I could have.

"The bruising will be nice," I said. "I expect pictures tomorrow when they've shown."

It was really too bad I never got to see them.

I was too hard. Wanted to plunge into her too much. Wanted to fuck her until she cried.

Needed to calm down.

I brushed my fingers against her stomach, porous and scarred, and she flinched.

"You don't have to fear me," I said.

She really did.

I wasn't meant to fuck humans.

"Spread your legs, slut," I said and she did with a small inkling of doubt. Worried she wasn't clean enough, though she had showered only an hour before arriving in the hopes I'd fuck her. I'd watched her do it. "Will you keep them spread?"

"Yes, sir."

I got my belt again and with a crack that was deafening even to me, I whipped her cunt.

She screamed. A loud, painful, raging gasp of a scream.

"Oh fuck, no," she cried, pulling her knees together.

She was finally scared.

She should be.

"Well," I said, inserting an unnecessary amount of derision in my voice, "I suppose you can't be useful for everything."

She was shaking. And crying. I didn't want to look at her face.

"On your stomach again, ass in the air."

She rolled over and imagined flames licking at her tits.

It hurt.

It was supposed to.

She could say no. She didn't.

This time, I fucked her for me.

I slowly penetrated her, letting her feel every slow, aching centimeter of me.

She shuddered and imagined I was made from ice.

So tight.

I scratched at her back, slowly and deeply. A moment of just raised skin and then small droplets of blood appeared

I bent down and licked them.

I became unhinged.

Her head was already down, her face pressed against the pillow, moaning and crying, both hating and loving what I was doing here. But still I pressed my hand against her neck, forcing her head down further.

She couldn't breathe.

Neither could I. Not if I wanted to finish this.

Thrust, thrust, thrust. She was hot, too hot. Warm and finally wet and clenching around me.

I reached around her hip to her slit, letting my fingers move in quick circles.

She was close. I could hear the disjointed words in her head. She sort of wanted this to be over. She wanted to come even more.

She couldn't breathe.

Her back arched inward, forcing her ass up higher, and she tightened even further.

"_Fuck_," I mumbled. "Fuck."

She moaned something into the pillow.

For a few minutes we existed like this. Me, pounding furiously, trying to both stave off finishing and trying to relish the feeling. Her, trying desperately not to scream no.

She came, hard. I straightened up, one hand still wrapped around the back of her neck, and shuddered violently as she squeezed me.

It was building. Strong and almost painful and fast and I had completely lost my head.

I heard the crack of bone breaking, felt the sharp jerk of it split behind my hand. She gasped, once, and had a single frenzied thought.

And then her mind was blank.

Her body slowly began to sag underneath mine.

I was so close.

I wrapped an arm underneath her stomach, lifting her back to an appropriate place.

One, two, three thrusts and I pulled out.

The arching, white fluid that left impressive trails across her back shone dimly under the small overhead light.

I got off the bed and stared at her body. I stared for a long time.

I repacked my trunk and placed it back under the bed, where it belonged.

I briefly considered drinking from her before deciding that perhaps she'd had enough for the evening.


End file.
